


I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home

by lady_ataralasse



Series: May the Sam be With You [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, Dom Sam, Drinking, Episode Baby, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Rum, Season 11, Season 11 Episode 04, Smut, Swearing, blowjob, crazy-bunker sex, mild dom reader, mild dom sam, safe sex, the back half is all the smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ataralasse/pseuds/lady_ataralasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've been living on the road a while now, avoiding relationships, focusing on the job. Lately, you've been thinking about maybe trying a different sort of hunting partner and those thoughts have led straight to Sam. Unfortunately, not knowing your intentions, Sam had a fling on the road. When you find out, needless to say, you're upset. Can you shake it off? Is Sam into you too? Takes place in Season 11, during and directly after Episode 4, "Baby".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements: Thanks as always to Spectaculacular-Sammy for being my sounding board and beta. Her writing is awesome and you should definitely check it out : http://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy  
> Extra hugs and thank yous to spectaculacularsammy for helping to coax me out of my funk and get me posting again.
> 
> I decided to split this into 3 chapters because it got so long, but nothing else has changed.

** **

**_♪_ Alone** **_♪_ **

_♪I hear the ticking of the clock. I'm lying here the room's pitch dark. I wonder where you are tonight. No answer on the telephone and the night goes by so very slow. Oh I hope that it won't end though, alone. Till now I always got by on my own. I never really cared until I met you and now it chills me to the bone. How do I get you alone? How do I get you alone? You don't know how long I have wanted to touch your lips and hold you tight, oh, you don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight, but the secret is still my own, and my love for you is still unknown, alone. . Till now I always got by on my own. I never really cared until I met you and now it chills me to the bone. How do I get you alone? How do I get you alone? How do I get you alone? How do I get you alone? **♪**_

After Sam and Dean get the first call from Castiel, Sam and Dean start to wonder if they made the right choice leaving Castiel alone. When Dean ends the call, Sam decides to call you and ask you to stop by the bunker. Sam hasn’t seen you for a few months, but you’ve done cases with the boys off and on for years. You know Castiel and think of him as another of the brothers for the most part.

~

You got to know the boys when you were all still kids, and your parents were hunters. You and the boys helped keep each other entertained on the road when your parents worked together until you were old enough to help with the research. Sometimes, the boys stayed with you and your mom to go to school while your dad’s went hunting. You trained with them daily between schoolwork, research, and video games. Dean helped you with your aim when it came to firearms, and Sam helped you get better with knives. You sparred with both brothers growing up. Dean seemed to want nothing more than to be just like his dad when he got older, like he dreamed about putting on those shoes night and day. Sam, knew he wanted out as soon as he could get it himself. He wanted some kind of normal. You weren’t sure if you were going to get into the life when you grew up back then. You weren’t sure you wanted to be just like your parents, but you weren’t sure there was normal to be had either.

Sam was the one you swapped books and computer knowledge with. He was the one you shared your secrets, dreams, and broken hearts with, and he was your partner to prank Dean when he got in a mood. You also shared a slightly unhealthy fascination with mysteries and serial killers both fictional and otherwise. When _X-Files_ came on, you were both hooked, joking about some day going into the FBI and becoming a legitimate supernatural crime solving team like Mulder and Scully, except that you _both_ believed in the spooky cases.

You both took the first steps going into relevant undergrad work, but he missed pre-law, and your comp-sci degree combined with a couple years of border patrol had dead-ended at the border. When the apocalypse happened, you couldn’t sit back, knowing what you knew. You tried to go back to a normal life after that for awhile, working in computer science, until your boyfriend was eaten by a succubus on every conceivable level. Needless to say, it left you with some issues. You managed to kill the succubus with a sword you had from the Renaissance Faire. You were done with everything but hunting for awhile after that.

You called some of the old numbers you had for the boys and when none of them worked, you finally managed to reach Bobby, and he got you their number. Apparently, the boys had to ditch all their old phones because of something called Leviathans. You saw them off and on for a few years after that. When you called them to tell them you had inherited a giant storage locker of books on the supernatural and wanted to know if they had one started that you could add them to, they’d found the bunker and you brought the books there. The duplicates that there were, you stored off-site to be safe. After Bobby’s house went boom, you decided some healthy paranoia was the only game in town.

~

It’s been a long time since you bothered with a home or motels on the regular. You’re not much for credit card scams when you can help it, and you can do enough remote computer work to live. After your last shot at normal ended bloody, you weren't real into stuff. You got an old Volvo station wagon, and she was a tank, plus you could sleep in the back when the seats were folded down. The other great thing is, no one suspects a hunter to be a woman in an old Volvo. You shower at truck stops. You set up a tent when you feel the need for more space. Sometimes, you splurge for a motel, but mostly that’s a luxury you only enjoy when you hunt with the boys, or if it’s too cold or too hot to sleep in your car. You stay at the bunker some between hunts, watching movies, doing research, enjoying a real kitchen, playing _Halo_ or _Assassin’s Creed_ with the boys. Being the history nerds, you and Sam lean towards _Assassin’s Creed_ when Dean isn’t playing. He loves _Call of Duty_ , but you and Sam agree that the only version you like much is the version where you kill zombies.

Lately, though, you’ve been thinking about asking the guys if you can use the bunker as a base too. When Sam calls and asks for your help keeping an eye on Castiel, you take it as a sign and tell him you have something you want to talk over with him and Dean. You’re hoping to also mention to Sam the other think you’ve been considering lately: that you have more personal interest in him. You figure you may as well mention that first because you don’t want things to be awkward if you mention it _after_ moving into the bunker. If Sam isn’t into you and that changes his feelings about you staying there, better to do that while it’s as simple as possible for everyone.

You don't have Castiel’s new phone number, so Sam gives you that to you. When you reach the bunker, you call it, and Castiel opens the door for you. He’s in one of Dean’s Men of Letters bathrobes, which is an odd, pathetic image, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he had a bad cold from looking at him. He leads you and your bags through the bunker without a word to Sam’s room where he’s watching Netflix.

You scan the image he’s paused on the screen. “Oooh, _Orange is the New Black_. I’ve been meaning to catch that.”

“I do not understand the title.”

“It’s a fashion reference.” When he still looked confused, you smile and pat his shoulder kindly. “Let’s just watch it and see if it makes more sense to you later. I brought some food.” You indicate a bag loaded with enough Chinese to last a few days. “I’m gonna put most of it in the fridge and grab a beer. You need anything?”

“No. I am fine, thank you. I was trying to find information on the case, but I am taking a break.”

“Well, after I eat, I’ll help too.”

“Thank you.”

“But I have to finish first. Sam will kick my ass if I eat while reading.”

“I thought _spanking_ was the appropriate reaction to wrongdoing.”

You snort. “If it _was_ , I’d eat crackers in his bed. And eat this food with my fingers while I read.”

“I think those actions would cause him great aggravation.” Castiel gives you a confused look that shifts to something more probing and then clears.

“You know, you could just ask me instead of doing your mind reading thing, Cass. You’re not _that_ subtle. I know when you do it.”

He ignores your comment. “You have personal interest in Sam?”

You fork some lo mein into a takeout bowl. “Yeah.”

“Does he know?”

You chew a few mouthfuls, considering. “Probably not. I’ll tell him when he comes home.”

“Does he have interest in you?”

“No idea. We’ve been co-workers and friends for long enough he might have forgotten that we’re not actually blood at this point.”

“Family does not end with blood.” Castiel recites the line that's been drilled into him by word and deed over his years with the Winchesters.

You fork a dumpling, dipping it into sauce before taking a bite. “True, but generally, one does not have intimate, personal relationships with their blood . . . uhm . . . relations . . . anyway, so, like I said, I doubt Sam has thought about it much. I mean to be honest, back when Sam thought he was cursed or whatever, I _may_ have encouraged him to think of me platonically, so he didn’t try to push me away.”

Castiel nods, curling into his robe further. “I understand _that_ logic. So, what changed to make you think Sam no longer is pushing away personal relationships?”

"Mostly, it's just a feeling, or maybe _I_ just feel less like pushing away personal relationships. Either way, Sam called and asked me to come here to make sure you were all right. He's never done anything like that before, so I'm choosing to take it as a sign that I should at least bring it up."

"I do not need a babysitter." Castiel grumbles indignantly.

You cuff Castiel's shoulder, smiling. "You know who whines about people taking care of them? _Babies_. Just accept that the boys care enough to ask me to drive my cute, busy ass out here for you. You heal them all the time. It's not like they get to return the favor much." You stuff a few more forkfuls into your mouth, eager to get to researching.

"Your reasoning is acceptable."

"I know. Now, I'm done eating, so let's get cracking on those books and help bring them home."

"Agreed."

~

Castiel calls Dean to pass along the information you and he managed to dig up. You keep looking and actually end up finding the Nachzehrer. Knowing Castiel's suffering more than you are not being along with the boys, you let him call in that information too, while you make a food run.

~

When the boys finally get home, it's big, warm hugs all around, and you have a meal waiting and beers in the fridge.

While you sit down to eat, you ask about the damage to the Impala. "You boys are lucky she even got you home. What the hell happened?"

"Fucking Ghoul-pires." Dean grumbles.

While he tells you all about the case, you make sure Castiel is comfortable and that everyone has what they need to dig in and fuel up. Sam fills in the gaps about when Dean and he split up. You hide how nervous the tale of their adventure makes you. They're professionals. They know how to not get dead. You know that. Still, hearing that Sam got jumped too is _not_ reassuring, but you hide it with a jab. "Hasn't the horror genre taught you boys anything over the years? Splitting up gets you dead."

"We're still here aren't we?" Dean replies, mouth full of food. "We're _Win_ chesters, not _Lose_ chesters."

You and Sam don't want to laugh, but the end-of-hunt-relief makes it impossible. You two look at each other and just let the laughter roll out as you shake your heads.

You end up being the one that breaks the laughter while Sam gets up and grabs another round of beers from the fridge. "Dean, it's a shame you don't have kids. You've got the dorky-Dad jokes down pat."

Dean waves you off. "Not you too. Sam's bio clock started going off recently."

You raise your eyebrows, smiling a little hopefully. _Sounds promising._ "Oh? Sam's thinking about settling down?"

"Apparently. He _finally_ loses his revirginity to some waitress, and the next morning he's all fifty shades of commitment, like that ever works out in this life."

~

Sam came into the room with the beers in just enough time to hear the playful tone when you ask Dean about him wanting to settle down. He misses the note of hope. He does, however, see your expression become mask-like when Dean finishes talking. He catches the brittle tone of your laughter. He's confused, but he notices that you're upset about something. He wonders if you, too, have just been thinking about finding a different sort of hunting partner lately and that’s the reason having Dean mine your parade with horse crap isn't a welcome sentiment.

~

You finish eating the rest of your dinner mechanically, Dean’s words making you feel sick and dark. Taking in the new information feels like being stabbed with icicles that exploded in your chest in a flash of heat, making you feel sharp splinters of pain with every movement before settling into your flesh like poison. When you finish swallowing, you push away from the table avoiding eye contact with Sam. "I'm gonna head into town for a few hours, stretch my legs for something other than a food run."

Dean gives you a knowing grin. "Gonna score some tail yourself?"

You shoot him a hard smile. "You're not the only one who can find your own fun."

"Good hunting." Dean calls after you.

Sam frowns, feeling that something is off, but doesn't say a word. He knows you sometimes just need to be on your own, and if you’re just going out to hook up, he certainly can’t throw stones about that. He decides to check in on you whenever you get back. When he finishes his meal, he goes to look over the research you and Castiel amassed and make his case notes while Dean cleans up the meal.

~

 _♪Mr Brightside_ by The Killers♪

You go to three bars, but nothing looks appetizing to you. Maybe the idea that Sam slept with some rando has just  broken something in you. A few guys approach, but they all seem like assholes. If you're really honest with yourself, you're not sure if they are actually assholes or not. _But if Sam can bang a rando after all this time . . . If Sam can do a hit and run then . . ._ You couldn't finish the sentence even in the privacy of your own mind. It was like you suddenly couldn't trust your ability to gauge people unless you were hunting. After your third bar with no one catching your interest, you knew you needed a little time to shrug off your hopes with Sam before you went out again.

You call the bartender over, asking for a glass of water. While you wait, another thought started to take shape.

The bartender, a woman in her mid-forties or so, brings you your water and leans on the counter. "So honey, what's stuck in your craw? Cuz you've been sittin' here for goin' on an hour, not saying much and generally shootin’ down every man who even looks your way like you're playin' duck hunt. So what gives? If men aren't to your taste, there's another place I can suggest up the road a ways."

You smile bitterly. "What makes you think I'm looking for company? Maybe I'm better off alone."

She cracks a half smile. "You don't go to a bar like this to be alone. You can be alone in your room with a bottle."

You drink some of the water. "True. You sure you wanna hear any of this? If I start, I'm not gonna be inclined to stop for at least a good fifteen minutes."

She chuckles. "Honey, you sound a lot like my daughter when she gets all twisted up about something."

"Yeah, where's she?"

"Oh, she's doin’ things that need doin’. So what is it? Boyfriend done ya wrong?"

You shake your head. "He's not my boyfriend."

She cracks a knowing half smile. "Is that the trouble?"

You tilt your head before taking another drink. "In a way."

"Darlin' spit it out. I close at midnight here."

"There's this guy. I've known him for a long while now, or I thought I did. I guess I took for granted that we’ve both been avoiding romantic entanglements for years and that he's never really done a lot of casual encounters or anything. I was coming to see him and tell him I wanted to try something no-so-casual together."

"Did he turn you down?"

"No, I was all set to tell him when he came home from a work trip, but his brother, who was traveling with him, mentioned that he nailed some waitress from a diner while they were away. Apparently, it led to him mentioning that he’s thinking about finding someone serious or something."

“And you’re worried he might be thinking of her for that?”

“Obviously.”

"Is he planning to see her again?"

"I don't know."

"But you're hurting anyway."

"Yup, big time. Feels like I got stabbed in the chest with a red hot poker, and they twisted it around before ripping it back out. "

"So you're jealous. Does he know that?"

"No."

"So what are you gonna do about?"

You huff out a breath, taking another swallow. "Well, apparently, I don't have much stomach for plan A."

"Is that plan, nailing a random person of your own, preferably someone in the service industry, to make things even again?"

You narrow your eyes at her. "Something like that."

"But you're not interested in that because you have feelings for your friend.”

“Right again. You should be a bartender.”

“You’re hilarious. Look, you don’t know that he’s planning to see her again. Even if he is, that might all change when you lay out your cards.”

“Maybe.” You mutter sullenly.

The bartender rolls her eyes at you. “One way you could look at this is that if he’d never been with this other girl, he might not be thinking about some sort of relationship. She might have opened a door for you.”

You snort. “I could have opened it just fine myself.”

“Well, bell’s rung on that. What's plan B?"

"I'm working on that now. If I go back there now, he's gonna know I'm upset. I was thinking that I could keep away until morning, watch for him to go on his morning run, sneak in, grab my stuff, and leave him a note. I can tell him something came up for work, some sort of emergency. Then, I can come back in a few weeks, after I feel less like shit, and talk to him then."

"And how do you think you're _friend_ is gonna take it if you avoid him for weeks to lick your imagined wounds when he has no idea what the real problem is?"

"If I tell him why I'm upset, he's gonna feel like shit and blame himself."

"Sounds like you're setting him up to do that either way. If you really care about him, at least tell him before you go. If he's not interested, then you can have some dignity, and you both can have some space to get past it. On the other hand, if he is interested, then you're both not miserable for a month over nothing."

You finish the water, frowning. "Ugh, your way sounds hard and painful."

"It's less painful in the long run, I assure you. You can't change how this went down. All you can do is decide what comes next. Either you make yourself miserable and likely your friend too, or you look things in the eye and see what the morning brings."

You slump your face into your hand on the bar, frowning petulantly. "Can I at least mope until tomorrow? I'm staying at his place; he's gonna be there then too."

"Sure hon. Take tonight to wallow. Tomorrow, you can tell your friend that you'd like to take him out for a beer."

"Fiiine, mom. I'll talk to him about my _feelings_." You roll your eyes, saying the last word like it’s diseased.

"Ellen will do fine." She cuffs you affectionately on the head. "Look, I understand you're feeling sore about this other girl, but maybe if you had told him sooner how you felt none of this would have happened."

"Gee thanks, that helps. Anyway, that wouldn’t have worked. It’s kind of new information for me too."

Ellen shook her head at the stupidity and blindness of young folk. "What do you think would actually happen if you disappeared into the night? Do you _actually_ think he wouldn't wonder what happened to you?"

You thought about it a minute. "No, you're right. Even if he bought my excuses, his other, other . . . brother knows I was planning to talk to him, and he'd rat me out for sure. Balls."

"There you go. Now, go home. Get some rest and face your demons."

You put money on the bar and shrug into your coat. "Thanks, Ellen."

“You go get ‘im, honey. Then you bring him here for a beer on me.”

You flash her a parting grin. “Deal.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You head back to the bunker to follow Ellen's Advice and talk to Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements: Thanks as always to Spectaculacular-Sammy for being my sounding board and beta. Her writing is awesome and you should definitely check it out : http://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy  
> Extra hugs and thank yous to spectaculacularsammy for helping to coax me out of my funk and get me posting again.
> 
> I decided to split this into 3 chapters because it got so long, but nothing else has changed.

On your way back to the bunker, the loneliness creeps back into the car with you. Well just because I couldn't find company at the bar, doesn't mean I need to be alone. I can have some liquid comfort tonight and tomorrow, I can still face my demons. You headed back to the bunker, stopping to buy a bottle of rum on the way. You leave the windows open and let the cool air clear out the car. You put on the radio for good measure and let ZZ Ward's Put the Gun Down fill you with righteous frustration, letting it burn through you and hopefully out of your system.

When you’ve got the door closed behind you, car tucked in, you think about just heading to bed, but you know where that would end. You'd lay there in the dark, brooding on thoughts you don't want to think and that’s useless. This was one of those times when thinking solved nothing. You head to the kitchen to get a mug, rum in hand.

You pour a finger, throw it back, and the fire starts down your throat. A second one, and the warmth starts to creep into your head and your heart, easing the pain, burning out the poison. You smile at the label and salute. "Oh, Captain, my captain, I should have come to you first. You are far more practical for my current state of mind than plan A, although talking to that last bartender helped at least."

~

Sam hears you come in and walk to the kitchen as he’s making his way back to the library from his room with some of the books you and Castiel left there. When he hears you talking, he thinks you must be feeling more sociable and puts the books down in the library before heading your way.

When he enters the kitchen, you’re sitting on the steel work counter, talking to the bottle, sipping from a mug.

"All these dicks, and they're all attached to Chads." You lament to Captain.

Sam frowns. He hasn't seen you like this in a long time. "Chads?"

"Jackasses."

Sam nods, like that clarifies everything. “Are you OK?”

Your mouth slides into a smile easily now, too easily, the muscles lubricated by the rum. You're not slurring, but your speech is languid and deliberate. "I am now. The men aren't biting, just jackasses in men's clothing, but the Captain here is very interested in getting inside me."

“What are you talking about?" Sam is genuinely puzzled. You sounded fine on the phone the other day, but now . . . he's never known you to care much about picking up guys in bars, at least not for a long time.

“Doesn't matter. I feel better now.”

"Is this about what Dean said at dinner?"

You pour another finger, sip it, smile gone, emotions coiled to pounce. "What thing are you talking about?"

Sam sighs heavily and gets a glass for himself. He hears the edge in your tone at his question and takes a moment to redirect, take you off the defensive. "A mug?"

Your smile slides back on. "Harder to drop." You sip more, easing the discomfort his question caused.

He nods, smiling. "That thing Dean said about how long-term commitments don't work out for hunters."

"Yeah, finding a different sort of hunting partner seemed like a great idea about twelve hours ago. I’m revising my position now. I think the Captain, here, is far more predictable. Hand-delivered orgasms aren't so bad. I always know what I’m doing, my hand never loses its sail. No condoms. My hand can't knock me up... and I still have most of the evening left to watch Orange is the New Black after I regain awareness.”

Sam laughs kindly. “All true, but your hand can't keep you warm at night."

"That's why I have an electric blanket."

He leans on against the wall opposite you. "You just have it all figured out, then."

You lift your glass in a mock toast. "I guess."

"What happened?”

You shrug, sipping more rum. "What do you mean?"

Sam pushes off the wall, standing in front of you, making what feels like very intense eye contact with you. "I've never heard you talk like this before, and in spite of your long list of reasons why you're better off alone, you don't sound happy about it, even with the rum. You just said that twelve hours ago you were thinking about something long-term, maybe a different sort of hunting partner, and I'm wondering what happened in the last twelve hours to change your mind."

Your eyes narrow, and you give Sam a hard look, anger shoving its way forward inside you. “For a smart guy you’re an idiot.” You turn to the bottle of rum, listening to the top end like it’s a conch shell. “What do you mean I’m not being fair to Sam?” You pause, listening to the bottle. “Fiiiine. You’re right. He didn’t know.” You turn to Sam. “I’m sorry for being unfair.” You turn back to the bottle. “It’s just that I thought Sam, might be an actual good fit, but I was being stupid, must be that time of the month or something." You turn back to Sam. "I’ll shake it off.”

Sam takes the bottle from you, forcing you to look at him. “I didn't know you were looking.”

"It's a recent thing."

"I didn't know you were looking at me."

There’s a note of apology there that you don’t like that you like. He has nothing to apologize for . . .You shrug again. "It's hard not to look at you.”

Sam moves and leans on the counter beside where you're sitting, nudging you. "So you're upset because I slept with the waitress?"

"Maybe." You snatch the bottle back.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

You huff out a breath, angry . . . at yourself, Sam, the waitress, Dean, the life . . . “I know I have no right to be jealous, but I am. It’s just . . . I guess I thought you weren’t that kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy?”

“Dean.”

“Oh.” There’s a world of understanding in that syllable. You’ve spent enough nights talking while Dean’s been out hitting on one girl or another.

You sip more rum. “I just thought you weren’t a one-night-stand-with-some-random-person guy.”

Sam sips his rum. “I’m not sure how to answer that given recent events.”

“I don’t think you can. I just had this idea that I knew you, and now, I’m thinking maybe I don’t. Not really.”

His eyes dart to yours sharply. “I think you do.”

“Why her then?”

“You mean like instead of you?”

“No; that’s not fair. You didn’t know. Just why her?”

Sam finishes his rum and pours more. “Honestly, she reminded me of this femme-fatale-type Dean and I knew awhile back named Bella. When we met her, she was posing as a waitress. I sort of had a stupid thing for Bella back then. The waitress from the other night had a similar look: the hair, the smile. And when I was talking to her at the diner, she had this great sense of humor.”

Sam's story brings you an odd sort of comfort. Here, you thought it was just some random encounter, when in reality, he has this whole long explanation for why this woman caught his attention even just for a one-night thing. You wonder if you've had that much thought behind your occasional random encounters.

You look at Sam over the rim of your mug, and he's looking at you differently now. There's this assessing look in his eyes, and you know he's looking at you too now, the way you were looking at him before. There's a pleading look too, once your eyes meet, and you know he's asking without asking for you to just put the whole thing in the rearview and look at him like that again.

That icy-hot feeling inside you melts away. You feel a smile, a real smile, come on and give Sam a nudge across from you with your toe. “So, you were just workin’ on your night moves then, huh?”

“You and Dean and that damn song.” Sam curses without heat, shaking his head.

“You weren't in love - oh no far from it - weren’t searching for some pie in the sky summit. You were just young and restless and bored.”

Sam's laughing now, crossing to stand beside where you’re sitting, leaning on the counter. “Something like that.” He nudges your ribs. “Maybe I was just practicing for someone like you.”

“A warm up, huh? A practice run after all that time on the shelf?”

“Hey!” He nudges your ribs again.

“Yeah, yeah. Easy there, big guy. I get it." You nudge your head into his chest this time. Letting him know you're OK. "Huh. That actually helps.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s sort of comforting knowing you have so many reasons why behind some random waitress. It sort of re-proves my original impression about you.”

“Which is?”

You put down the rum. “You’re complicated. Everything you do is complicated.”

Sam groans. “When you put it like that I sound pretty tedious.”

You shake your head, staring right into his eyes with a little intense eye contact of your own. “Not at all. It’s very . . . interesting." You turn on the counter, just enough that you can face your body to him a little more. "I like complicated. If I wanted simple, I wouldn’t be a hunter for a start.”

Sam turns himself a bit toward you now, his mind moving fast, while his eyes take you in. “Huh. I suppose hunting can get pretty complicated.”

Your hand starts to run lightly over his flannel sleeve closest to you, testing. “You know, the thing about simple is that it tends to be fun or hot, but I find complicated can go both ways fluidly because there’s a comfort level.”

Sam moves a little more into your space, standing between your legs now while you sit on the counter, running one of his hands over your hair, playing with a lock. “Makes sense, and you get the other layers too.”

“You do." Your knees bump against his thighs, lightly, while your one hand continues to run over his arm, the other one slides to his hip. Your eyes move over Sam's body, taking him in practically for the first time, debating the next move. You're hyper-aware of the conversation you're not having . . . out loud anyway. "I haven’t done complicated in a long while.”

Sam's other hand moves to your hip, grounding him, tugging, but you're not sure whether he's tugging you to him or him to you. “No?”

“No." Your hand resting on his hips, starts to unconsciously play with Sam's belt, tracing your fingers over the worn leather. "I mean, I haven’t had a dry spell like yours . . . but on the other hand, I haven’t rounded all the bases with any one person in . . . longer than I care to admit, but I have been ordering à la carte once a year or so." Your hand moves along his belt to rub his lower back, teasing along the edge of his jeans. "Mostly, though, I’ve stuck to the job.”

Sam's hand moves from your hair to slide to your jaw, rubbing gently. “Why is that?”

“I guess I lost my appetite for simple fare." You pull him a little closer, pressing your hand further into his back. "I guess I was hungry for something a little more . . .” You look up and looking into his eyes, you're almost startled by how close he is. He’s really looking at you now.

“Complicated?” He starts to lean down.

“Yeah.” You breathe in his question and reach up with your hand that was on his arm to pull his face to yours.

You feel his mouth move against yours, lips brushing, soft and warm. But when you both sigh into it, and you feel his tongue, you both seem to slam into a higher gear. Your legs pull him closer, your arms wrap around each other. You and Sam push and pull each other until Sam has you pressed into the stainless steel counter. Sam's hands are on your shirt, starting to slide under when you pull back a little reaching an arm out to the side.

Sam pulls away immediately, both of you gasping for air. His eyes search yours, full of worry. "Too fast?"

You flash a wicked grin, pulling him closer with your legs. "Not at all. Just wanted to get the condom from my purse."

Sam looks around, with that look of a kid about to get caught looking for Christmas presents. "Right here? What about Dean and Cass?"

You pull Sam in for another long, filthy kiss, both of you breathing hard when you let him up. "Sam, I don't care if they make popcorn and watch the whole thing."

He snorts. "I think that's the Captain at the helm."

"I think you're under estimating how much I want this to happen."

Sam grins and grinds his hips into you. "Right there with you."

"Good." You snatch your bag and start pulling things out and setting them on the counter: 7 knives, bottle of salt, bottle of holy water, rosary, 2 guns, 6 clips, floss, a packet of suture needles, wallet, coin purse, mace, silver knuckles, make up bag . . .

By the time Sam sees the makeup bag he's done. Sam picks you up, tosses you over his shoulder and heads towards his room. "As fascinatingly impressive as your mini arsenal is, there is an assortment of condoms in the bathroom near my bedroom, and I know where they are."

"I almost had them." You sputter, a little flustered by the sudden change in location.

"Sure, you just had to pull out some rope, duct tape, a flare gun . . ."

You snicker. "Well . . . a girl has to be prepared for anything." As Sam moves through the halls you remember where you have a couple stashed with your things. "I have mint ones in my room, but they're only good for the one thing, not the other thing."

Sam twists his head to the side to kiss you. "I think my bathroom has some of those too."

"Great. Grab those too."

Sam picks up what he needs, and then carries you to his room, lowering you carefully to the bed.

“For what it's worth, now that I know, I wish it had been you too.”

You look away. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

Sam shakes his head, smiling sadly, wishing you didn’t doubt him. “I’m not. If I were just trying to make you feel better, I’d tell you that the girl didn’t even want my number.”

You look back at him, baffled. "She didn't want your number? Was she blind? Did she have a seeing eye dog? One of those little white stick thingies?"

Sam laughs, glad you’re coming around. “Nope, not that I saw."

"She's crazy then, bad crazy, not fun crazy."

"I guess she must be. So you’d want my number?”

You shake your head, kicking off your shoes and pushing back on the bed. “Nope.”

Sam takes off his boots and then his jeans. “No?”

You give him a sly smile, tugging off your pants. “I’m thinking that I’d rather just have you close enough that I don’t need a phone to reach you.”

Sam grins. "I like the sound of that." He crawls on the bed and starts pulling off his flannel shirt.

You pull off your shirt, and then start helping Sam pull off his undershirt. “So Dean said she took your revirginity?”

Sam pulls off his last shirt, tossing it on the floor. “Yeah, but the entire concept of revirginity is Dean’s thing. It doesn’t really count." He cups your face and wraps his other arm around you, pulling you against him. "Besides, it’s not about the first one with this sort of thing. It’s about the last one.”

You pull back, shaking your head, teasing him. “Wow. That’s your line? Really? No wonder it’s been three years.”

Sam bites your bottom lip. “Like you can do better?”

You twist on the bed, rolling him onto his back and then perch on his hips to look into his eyes while you pitch your line: “Sam, I’ve been living out my car for a long time now. I’d like to make my home somewhere that has a real foundation, and I’d rather it was somewhere with you.”

Sam just stares at you a minute before replying, stunned, stroking your forearms above his hips. “Wow. OK, yeah. Yours sounds less cheesy.”

“So? What do you think?”

Sam just gives you a soft, easy smile, eyes full of words he’s not saying. “I think I’ve got a terrible track record with homes, but I’d like to try again with you.”

"Me too."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sam finish what you started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements: Thanks as always to Spectaculacular-Sammy for being my sounding board and beta. Her writing is awesome and you should definitely check it out : http://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy  
> Extra hugs and thank yous to spectaculacularsammy for helping to coax me out of my funk and get me posting again.
> 
> I decided to split this into 3 chapters because it got so long, but nothing else has changed.

There's almost no fabric left between the two of you now, just your bra and your respective underwear. He feels so perfect under your hands, so gorgeous and powerful and amazing. He could have anyone, and he just told you he wants to try something real with you. Sam's hands are on you, one anchoring your hip to him, the other cupping your face close to his, so he sees the shift in your eyes the moment it happens, the way your smile fades.

The alcohol is wearing off and the protection it granted you from your unwanted emotions is fading too. The pain has dulled since Sam's revelation, but you can feel what’s left again. You don't want to, but it's there making your heart feel tender to the touch. Even though you and Sam just told each other that you want to try making a home together. By any standards, things between you have changed at light speed in a direction you want them to go . . . so why is Sam's fling still rubbing at you like gravel in your shoe?

Sam leans forward, rubbing his nose against yours. "Hey, what is it?"

You shake your head. You already figured this out, right? Sam’s fling is the last thing you want to talk about. As a matter of fact, you'd rather not be talking at all. You lean back down, trying to just pick up where you left off, inhaling the way Sam smells as deep as you can, trying to drive out everything but your awareness of him.

Your lips barely brush his neck, when Sam is pushing you back gently with his hands on your shoulders, so he can look into your face again. "Hey, if we're gonna do this, be together, it starts now. That means if we're not OK, we talk about it. I don't need another partner in my life that shuts down when they don't want to talk about something."

You pull back, anger sparking in your eyes. "So, a relationship with you is conditional on me wanting to talk about my feelings all the time, even if I don't feel like it? Even if I’m not ready? Is that what you just said?"

Sam's eyes widen, realizing his mistake. "No, that is definitely not what I was trying to say. I was trying to lighten the moment by poking at Dean, like we always do.” He takes your hand, placing little placating kisses on the pads of your fingertips. “I just mean that if you're not OK, I want to know so we can figure it out. Like right now, I'm feeling concerned because you're upset, and you don't want to talk about it. I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it because it's about the woman I slept with."

You don't say he's right, but he's right. You close your eyes, letting him rub your hand over his cheek, knowing somehow that it’ll remind you it’s him, Sam, your friend. You can tell him anything, and it’s always OK. "I don't want to feel this way. I know you didn't know. I'm not angry with you."

"You could be." His voice is reasonable, and it starts to ease the tension that’s taken hold.

"Why? Why would I be angry at you? You didn't do anything wrong."

Sam lets go of your hand, leaving it on his face and lightly rubs your arms with his hands. "I didn't tell you I've thought of you like this sometimes over the years we've known each other."

"You have?" That comes as a surprise.

"Of course, but the timing always seemed to be off. I still could have said something, though."

You put your head in your hands, groaning. "No-o, Sam this is why I didn't want to say something. I don't want you blaming yourself."

His thumb rubs small circles under your elbow, on the crease of your arm. "But I am directly responsible for you feeling upset right now."

You put your hands on his face, forcing him to look at you. "Sam, no. You didn’t know. I didn't say anything sooner either. I could have. I didn't. I told myself I didn’t know, but really I wasn't ready. We weren't ready."

Sam nods. "We weren't. We are now, right?"

"Yeah, and I meant the things I said before. I think my head's just a little ahead of my- the rest of me."

Sam smiles a little, rubbing his hands down your thighs. "We can slow things down more if you want." Seeing the alarmed look in your eyes, he quickly adds, "For tonight. We can just snuggle and see how things are in the morning."

You frown again. That's not what you want, not really. "I don't want to slow down. I don't want to feel . . . this. It's stupid."

Sam decides to try another tactic, leaning up to rub his nose over yours. "It's not stupid. It's actually kind of hot if you think about it, you being all jealous over me. I think I like you being a little territorial about me.”

You muster a growl.

Sam nips your bottom lip. “If you had actually gone home with someone tonight, I think it wouldn’t have sat too well with me either.”

That softens you again. Knowing he feels that side of things too, helps. “Good.”

Sam holds your hands, threading his fingers through yours. "If I'd had any idea, I swear, nothing would have ever happened with anyone while I was away. You are exactly what I was telling Dean I was looking for in the car after we drove off to the case."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're like me in a lot of important ways. You get the life and more importantly, you get my life. I can be honest with you. Can you imagine if I told a civilian what I did with the rest of that trip? You think they'd want me to touch them?" He looks away from you for the first time since this conversation started.

You know Sam well enough to know where this train of thought is going. "You're not a monster Sam. Hunters aren't untouchables."

"We're killers."

"Not really."

You see Sam start to go dark, and it's too much. You lean down and kiss him, your hand going to cover his heart like you can physically protect it from all the pain life deals it. "Hey, I want to touch you. I know all that stuff, and I'm right here. I just . . . I hated the idea that I almost lost you before I even really had a chance to see what else we could be."

"But you didn't lose me. Even not knowing about how you felt, I am still not with anyone but you."

You feel better about the whole mess, but you still feel like teasing Sam’s mind away from his own dark thoughts. "What if she had wanted your number?" You give him a smile that lets him know you’re messing with him.

"I'd have to give that phone to Dean now," He jokes.

You lightly shove his shoulder. "No, you wouldn't do that. You’re not a Chad."

Sam’s voice gets a little more serious, but he’s still smiling. "I'd have to tell her something came up."

"Yeah?" You roll your hips over him now, feeling that something is indeed up between you.

Sam sees your mood shifting again and takes a chance, rolling you onto your back, under him. "Yeah." He rolls his hips back into you. "I think maybe you need me to show you how much I've thought about you over the years. I think maybe then you'll believe me and all those jealous thoughts will just slide right out of your head."

You groan, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. "I think that sounds promising."

Sam’s hands slide around you, unhooking your bra and tossing it over his shoulder. His lips move over your skin, along the curve of your neck, across your collarbone, then sliding down, while his mouth is licking and nipping down your chest. Your hands are trying to get your panties off your hips and out of the way. Sam pulls back just long enough to pull off your underwear and his before his body dives back between your legs, his face level with your chest. He takes a minute to bury his face between your breasts before running his nose along the underside of one, letting his stubble drag against the soft skin of your ribs and stomach. Then he angles his lips up over your breast before wrapping them around a nipple and nipping, licking.

You moan, bucking up against him, while your hands move into his hair. Then one of your hands wraps around to his back and starts to press him closer between your legs. You don’t want him to move yet, but you want everything he’s offering and that needs to be clear. Sam’s hands hold you close, wrapping around your ribs, long fingers rubbing and stroking while he feasts. He kisses up between your breasts, rubbing his stubble there too, scratching in a way that feels like he’s marking you, making sure you smell like him all over. Then while Sam begins to rub his stubble over your other breast, circling his chin around your nipple while you writhe, his left hand comes off your ribs and moves lower. You can feel his fingers curl over your hip while his thumb begins to stroke between your legs, parting your folds.

He groans into your skin before dragging his teeth over the outer edge of your breast. “Fuck, you are so wet. How have we not done this sooner?”

You whine, bucking your hips into his hand. “No idea. All those times we watched movies on motel beds when Dean was out or laid out on the car hood watching the sky. We could have been doing this.”

Sam slicks up a long finger rubbing against you, and then he slides it in as he starts to suck on the other nipple and your legs clamp against his ribs. “Just like this?”

“Sam . . . Curl it.”

Sam obliges, rubbing against the spongy ridge like a genie might come out. “Like that?” He teases.

You just nod and moan. Sam goes back to sucking while his thumb begins to circle your clit, and his finger keeps moving inside you. He adds another finger and alternates rubbing circles with his thumb and making a sort of star pattern over the slippery nub. You’re seeing stars too and the sounds coming from you aren’t words anymore. You’re completely gone, and you’re just getting started. When Sam curls his fingers and shifts his mouth down on a breath to suck on your clit, you arch, keening into the air. Sam smirks up at you and adds a few long licks with the flat of this tongue. Then, he drags his tongue in a snakelike path over your pussy, and it’s almost too much.

“Sam, on your back.” You gasp, hoarsely.

Sam pulls back, still moving his fingers inside you gently, smirking. You look completely blissed out. “You want something?”

“Yeah, you . . . in my mouth. On your back. Now. And I want one of those mint condoms you promised.”

Sam twists his fingers inside you one more time, and then he wraps his arms around your back and rolls you with him, so when he’s on his back, you’re practically sitting on his face. “I think I like you right where you are.”

His face is buried back into your folds so fast, his hands press you to his tongue, that you forget what you were planning to do for a minute. Sam’s clever mouth has you close again, faster than you imagined possible. His scruff rubs over you, his chin coated in slick, and his teeth drag ever so gently over your clit before his tongue starts fucking in and out of you. Before you know what’s happened, you’re coming again, rutting against his chin, completely out of your control.

You slump forward. Sam uses his arms to maneuver you on your side. Then he shifts, so he’s sitting at the head of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He puts a pillow behind him, and helps you shift, so your head is in his lap since you’re still a little boneless. Sam strokes your hair while you start to come back to your body. When your eyes flutter, you can smell Sam near your face: musky and sandalwoody.

“I believe you asked for one of these, milady.” Sam teases, holding a mint condom in front of your eyes.

Weakly you reach out to take it, grumbling. “Well, you took your sweet time about it.”

Sam laughs and helps you get the condom on before he practically feeds the tip of his cock into your mouth. His wicked grin drops off when your lips seal around his cock and start sucking like he’s full of chocolate. Sam’s head goes back so fast that he’s grateful he has a pillow behind him, or he’d have a concussion. You wake up in a hurry, your hands moving up to rest on his thighs hungrily, rubbing and pressing firmly, spreading his legs as far as you can. Sam’s hands grasp the headboard, afraid to hold on to you at the moment.

While your mouth keeps sucking and licking with as much pressure as you can muster, you rub and scratch one of Sam’s thighs while your other hand pumps the bottom half of his cock. Sam’s one hand comes off the headboard and starts to rub up and down your back, rubbing and scratching at the base of your skull occasionally.

You start to bob your head up and down, using more lip than suction while you tongue hard along the underside of his cock. You alternate that with trying to suck as much as possible into your mouth until Sam can feel your throat fluttering around it as you start to gag a little. You pull back a little, and then you start all over. Sam’s moans and cries get louder and his movements less controlled. When you take your hand off his thigh to reach around and grab his ass while you deep throat him again, he feels like you are forcibly yanking the orgasm from his body.

You don’t stop until Sam cups your jaw, nudging you gently, and then you peel off the condom, throwing it away while Sam slumps back. You grab some tissues from beside the bed to wipe him off and then settle back by his lap.

When Sam starts to move again, you nuzzle forward and find your face buried into his lap between his thigh and his stomach. You lick your tongue out, tasting salt and more musk. You moan and find a spot on his hip that you especially like. You start to suck and nibble, dragging your teeth, marking him. Sam throws his head back. He knows what you’re up to, and he doesn’t mind. It feels amazing.

“You can do the other side if you want.” Sam offers, his voice rougher that his stubble.

You smirk up at him, his face coming into focus and head back to work. You tongue at his balls on your way to his other hip, sucking them each into your mouth in turn until they’re slick. When you bring your hand up to roll them gently, they slide easily in your fingers. Sam moans harder, his hips bucking up. Then you latch onto his other hip, sucking hard, and Sam’s hands go into your hair, pulling you as close as possible. Your lips keep pulling at his skin while your teeth drag over the ridge of his hipbone, and your tongue delves furiously at the crease of his thigh. The brush of flesh at your shoulder lets you know that Sam’s getting hard again, and you pull back to admire the purple crescent forming.

You look up at him, where his face looks utterly wrecked. “More?”

Sam nods weakly, and you move up using your lower teeth to mark a crescent just under his left nipple while you lick impossibly lightly at his hardened nub. He curses while you work, and you move up his body stopping only when you reach his mouth, kissing him again deeply. Sam’s tongue delves into your mouth, and his hands come up to yank you forward to him. “That was so good.”

You rut yourself lightly against Sam’s abs. “So you like me marking you up, huh?”

Sam’s hands rub hard against your back, pulling you against him, rubbing his face over yours again. “Fuck yes. That was hot. You want me to mark you?”

“Definitely, but right now, I need you, Sam.” You rub against him again, making sure your ass rubs against his cock.

Sam kisses you hard, nipping your lower lip. “Need you too.” He lunges to the side and grabs a condom, making sure it’s not the mint kind. He wraps one arm closer to you to keep you in place while he uses his other hand to roll the condom on. Then he uses his arms to help move you up and onto him, sliding in smoothly.

When he’s fully inside you, Sam’s head drops to your shoulder, kissing, licking, nipping until he finds a spot he likes and bites into the meat of your shoulder at the base of your neck. Your hips grind against his involuntarily, trying to get closer while Sam bites. When he pulls back, he nuzzles into your neck, then nips your ear before kissing you again.

Your hips start to pump against his, moving you over him. Your arms come onto his shoulders, holding on and helping you get the leverage you want to grind down onto him. One of Sam’s hands wraps around your hip to move you as close to him as possible increasing the friction.

“Take it. It’s right there.” Sam demands.

You’re not sure what he means until you open your eyes just enough in your pleasure-haze to see Sam’s neck tilted to the side. He catches your eyes and gives you this filthy grin. Then he dips his thumb into his mouth and then dips it between you to rub one of your nipples and then over your clit. That’s all you need. You lunge forward, biting the spot on his neck, mirroring where he bit you, while your hips drive you over the edge.

You’re still coming, but your mouth is just resting against his shoulder when Sam wraps his hands around you, cushioning you while he bends forward, keeping himself inside you, and pressing you into the mattress. He doesn’t stop moving. He adjusts his thighs to get leverage and then sets a hard pace, pounding into you while you make sounds you barely recognize as coming from your mouth. Sam gives you both a moment to build higher when he bends down to suck on a nipple while his hips thrust him into you in the smallest of movements, stroking you higher and higher. Then he pulls back and rubs his thumb gently over your clit while still thrusting shallowly and then leans down to kiss you. “You feel so perfect. Are you close?”

You nod, blissed out of your mind. “Please Sam, come in me. Come, take it.” You turn you neck for him to mark the other side of your neck, and Sam groans and then starts pounding into you again. You wrap your arms around him as best you can, pulling him into you, pulling him closer. “Yes, Sam, yes. You feel incredible. So fucking perfect. Yes. I’m with you.”

Sam pulls almost all the way out, and then slams back in. He does that a few more times, making sure each long thrust rubs him against your pussy in all the right ways. When he comes, shouting, you realize half the shouting is coming from you.

Sam rolls his hips into you a few more long, slow times making sure to milk all the sensation from both of you before pulling back. He disposes of the condom and wipes you both down with tissues. Then he wraps you in a hug, and then tosses himself back towards his pillows, pulling you with him. “That was it. That was what I really needed.”

“Me too. That was exactly it. That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about when you got home when you were on the phone the other day.”

Sam rubs your breasts and belly in an affectionate way. “You wanted to talk about crazy-bunker sex?”

You laugh and slap his stomach. “Not exactly. I wanted to tell you I wanted to try living at the bunker instead of out of my car for a change, and that I was interested in trying something more with you to see if you were into it.”

Sam grins. “Glad we had this talk.” He laughs. “In case you missed it, I think that sounds great, on one condition.”

“Yeah?”

“Your room is for clothes, books, and a desk. Your bed is in here with me.”

You giggle, snuggling against his warm skin. “Fine by me.”

Sam pulls the covers over you both and grabs a water bottle from beside the bed, offering you some before having some himself, and then spooning you to sleep.

~

The next day, while Sam is working on something in the library, you call Sam’s phone. “Hey, Sam? So, last night was a lot of fun. You wanna get a beer some time? Do that all over again?”

Sam laughs into his phone, seeing you standing in the map room, facing him. “Tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

~

You drive out to the last bar you went to the night before, to thank Ellen for her advice and have her treat you and Sam to that beer, but when you get there, the building is all boarded up like it's been closed for years. You tell Sam about the woman you met and what she told you.

Sam just shakes his head, a sad, grateful smile on his face. “Ellen generally knows best.”

You look at him curiously, and he just smiles. “Tell you about her later. Ellen’s an old friend. I’m surprised you never met her when you were hunting. She liked to look out for Dean and I. How about we get some beer to go and head back? I think we should sit and look out at the stars for awhile.”

You thread your fingers in his. “Sounds good to me. Let’s go home.”

Sam nods. “Home.”

♪ Home ♪

♪Hold on to me as we go, as we roll down this unfamiliar road and although this wave (wave) is stringing us along. Just know you're not alone 'cause I'm gonna make this place your home. Settle down, it'll all be clear. Don't pay no mind to the demons, they fill you with fear. The trouble—it might drag you down. If you get lost, you can always be found. Just know you're not alone 'cause I'm gonna make this place your home. ♪


End file.
